


Quite Magical

by Teumessian



Series: The Boundless Saga [8]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Divergent, Hand Kink, M/M, Powerbottom!Magnus, Rimming, Sexual Content, lots of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:12:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teumessian/pseuds/Teumessian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec tells Magnus the price he promised to pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is pretty complete on its own, but as the second part is a direct continuation, it will be posted as a second chapter to this fic at a later date! 
> 
> Thanks to @miniicat97 on tumblr for her readthrough!

The moon is a sharp crescent, alone in the sky above Manhattan. Light pollution blurs out the stars and wind rolls over the top of an old commercial building. A demon the size of an elephant crawls over the edge of the roof, shrieking, tentacles waving wildly through the air.

“Endia, fall back!” Alec shouts as he looses an arrow and drops low; a blue ball of magic hurls over his shoulder.

Endia, a seelie warrior who was one of the first to join them after Alec and the others left the Clave for good, follows Alec’s command. She darts out of tentacle range as Magnus’ and Alec’s attacks strike home. The monster screams and Alec feels Magnus’ back against his own as they spin Alec back into the forward position.

“Talia! Sara! _Now!”_ Alec says and two young Shadowhunters charge.

They’re parabatai. Talia was born into a prominent but thinning family in Idris. They wanted Talia to wed and bear many children to return their family to dominance—all with a husband befitting her status. Her traditional parents’ hopes were wholly shattered upon finding Sara in their daughter’s bed.

Tali and Sara were also some of the first to seek Alec out.

They were by no means the last.

Talia takes a tentacle, Sara a foot. Their seraph blades shine black with demon blood in the moonlight. Alec briefly wonders if Magnus’ blood is darker than a human’s, he wonders if—the demon roars, rallying.

“Back now!” Alec shouts as he fires one, then two more arrows into what he can only assume is the creature's head.

“Alec,” Magnus says as the shadowhunters clear the range of the demon.

Alec doesn’t need more instruction than that. He and Magnus aren’t parabatai. They don’t become one entity when they fight together, not like Alec and Jace. Yet, the rune over Alec’s heart throbs and he knows just the right way to move, knows exactly where Magnus will step next, how he plans to attack.

Alec turns on the ball of his foot, drawing a short blade as Magnus takes the front position again. He dips into a ready stance, poised to leap forward and defend the warlock at any second. Magnus’ hands are moving in quick, jerky motions, as if he were beating the air with his fingertips, and lights begins to grow. Magnus crosses his arms over his chest and then throws them outward.

The blast is huge, rolling out and hitting the demon hard. It collapses with a scream. Alec doesn’t need to give an order for the others to see the opportunity. Magnus takes a sliding step back as Alec darts out from under his arm. Four bodies converge on the demon. Endia’s blade strikes first, then Tali and Sara as one. Finally Alec’s blade sinks deep.

The screaming stops abruptly and the demon disappears in a cloud of black smoke.

Alec stands, turning to see Magnus brushing his hands together as if to clear off the dust.

“Well that was invigorating,” Magnus quips.

Endia smirks and Sara laughs, euphoric with victory. Tali just cleans her blade, eyes alight.

“You all did well,” Alec says.

He knows the quirk of amusement in his voice is only caught by Magnus. The warlock smiles.

 

“What do you owe Clorophia?” Magnus asked the morning after the ritual of Irak-Ta.

Sun had started to stream through the thin fabric of the curtains and Alec had been staring into Magnus’ eyes for some time. Just looking, finally recognizing what had kept him from going under during those endless agonies. His hand rested on Magnus’ neck, thumb curling over the line of his jaw. Alec broke eye contact and felt the moment tighten, constricting as Magnus frowned. He didn’t know what to say.

“More secrets, Alexander?” Magnus said, voice light on the outside but much darker within. Alec knew Magnus wouldn’t stand for this.

“It’s not like that,” Alec said, forcing himself to keep eye contact. “It’s just… not the right time? With everyone leaving the Clave, and more coming if Lydia is right, there’s so much to be done. We need to find a place to build our alliance. We have to make sure the Clave doesn’t just call us traitors and try to wipe us out…”

Magnus huffed, brow dipping.

“I hope you understand how that sounds from my point of view. I don’t know why that’s even relevant and after the events of the last few days…”

Magnus didn’t have to continue.

“I know. But it’s not something you have to worry about now,” Alec said, then immediately realized how patronizing it sounded. “I just… I know I don’t have the right, now of all times especially, but - will you trust me?”

“Why?  And why shouldn’t I worry?” Magnus asked—a fair question.

“Because it’ll be your choice,” Alec said, rolling them so he was above Magnus, so he could push the hair from his forehead.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s part of the deal. My debt is conditional. I owe Clorophia a payment, but only with your consent. One word from you, Magnus, and the whole thing is off. So let me tell you when… when I can do it right, okay?”

Magnus’ palms skated up from Alec’s hips, up his spine. Alec hissed as his fingers brushed over the Irak-Ta. The other runes would fade away, but that one… he’d have it forever. Magnus’ face twisted as he realized. He wrapped his arms around Alec’s neck and the Shadowhunter let his body drop, covering Magnus entirely. He slipped his arms between the small of Magnus’ back and the bed and held on tight.

“Okay, Alexander,” Magnus said. “Okay…”

 

It’s almost dawn when Alec and the others step out of a portal in front of a massive abandoned bank. The skin of the building was once ornate, and still bore grandeur underneath a layer of grime. It was Luke who knew of the place, having answered a number of calls about kids breaking into the old structure. Magnus spent days converting the inside. Expanding, creating rooms, training areas, armories, and a great hall that felt suspiciously like a throne room—it worked well for the many meetings and talks that had been held in the days since Alec and the others defected. It hasn’t even grown close to crowded, even with new faces appearing every day.

“Go on and get some sleep,” Alec says. “Talia and Sara, I want you ready for training by midday.”

Neither Shadowhunter complains as they climb up the marble steps, pinkie fingers hooked together. Together they push through the doors of the bank.

It was Jace who started calling it the Vault.

The name stuck.

“You should get some rest, too, my love,” Magnus says when the others are out of earshot. “You’ve been running yourself ragged.”

Alec scrubs a hand through his hair.

“There’s just so been so much to do,” Alec says, but a small smile quirks his lips.

The personal network that Alec drew for himself before the Irak-Ta had widened into more official connections once word spread of a new Shadowhunter organization forming. They were careful, deliberate, and so far the Clave had no options to do anything about what was quickly becoming a major Shadowhunter migration—not without breaking the Accords. Various delegates from downworlder factions volunteered to join the new “Alliance”. Meliorn and Raphael sat on their council. Simon and a few others in the Du Mort coven joined officially, and Luke’s whole pack now resided in one wing of the Vault. A number of Warlocks and fey have also pledged themselves. Making sure they had the support of most of the local downworld is a delicate and involved task that still takes up the majority of Alec’s time.

Yet they were successful. They have a new home, a new mission.

The inside of the Vault is much more impressive than the outside. Magnus wouldn’t have it any other way. They walk through the ornate corridors side by side and, even after only a few months, Alec feels more at home here than he has anywhere else in his whole life.

“I just have to check in with Lydia, and then I’ll come to bed,” Alec assures him.

Magnus nods and then glances at Alec from the corner of his eyes.

“Your birthday is next week,” Magnus says, voice gentle, just a bit tender.

“I’ll be twenty-five,” Alec confirms.

Last year even Izzy didn’t mention it, just left a wrapped gift on his bed sometime in August, more than a month before his actual birthday.

“I will be getting you a gift, but I understand if you’d otherwise like me not to mention it…” Magnus says, knowing just how sensitive Alec has historically been around his birthday. “Or we could go somewhere again. I think you’d like Rome.”

He’s going to be one quarter of a century old. Something settles into place with that realization. Their footsteps echo in the empty hallway.

“No… no. This year I want to do something…” Alec says.

Magnus’ head turns and one brow raises.

“Really? I’m surprised, gazelle,” Magnus says and then quickly adjusts his mentality. “But that’s okay. Even on short notice I’m sure I can come up with something…”

It brings a soft smile to Alec’s face.

“Just wait,” Alec cuts in before Magnus can really start planning a party. “I think I already know what I want to do. I want to set it up myself. All you have to do is show up.”

If anything Magnus looks even more off balance now than before.

“This is unlike you, but if you insist…” Magnus replies as they come to a stop at the end of the corridor, one way leads up to the new apartment that Magnus and Alec furnished together, and the other leads to more public chambers.

It’s here they part.

“Just… trust me?” Alec looks young when he asks it, and it strikes a chord in Magnus.

“Of course, buah hatiku,” Magnus says. “Just let me know when and where.”

Magnus presses a kiss to Alec’s cheek before they part. At the top of the stairs he glances back to watch the rounded shape of Alec’s back, curled with his panther’s gait, take him down the long corridor, his work forever unfinished.

 

Magnus spends the next week looking for any clue to what Alec has planned for his birthday. One morning, three days before the date, he found a small envelope propped up on his nightstand when he woke up. Alec was already gone, up at the crack of dawn for a meeting with the seelie ambassadors. The invitation contained a time and a place, but nothing else, and Magnus is wholly clueless.

“So. What should I wear tonight, Alexander?” Magnus asks on the morning of Alec’s birthday, leaning against the counter as Alec slices a tomato into thin pieces.

Alec smiles as he layers lettuce, chicken, and the tomato onto slices of bread.

“I’m sure whatever you wear will be look great,” Alec says, glancing at Magnus before looking away again.

“Darling, you know that’s completely unhelpful. Will there be dancing? A large crowd to impress? Or would you like me to keep it simple, let you shine on your special day?”

Alec just chuckles, keeping his eyes down. Magnus realizes he’s uneasy, shoulders unusually tense.

“It’s… It’s gonna be small. All you have to do is show up, and it’ll be fine,” Alec says and Magnus looks at him closely. He doesn’t seem to be upset or irritated with Magnus, but all the same his movements are much less assured than Magnus has grown used to. “Don’t you have a Warlock Council to go to soon?”

Magnus glances up at the clock and his brows raise. He pushes off the counter, distracted.

“I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ll only be a few  hours, then I’ll meet you at the party,” Magnus says.

He dips forward to peck Alec on the lips and go, but he’s surprised when Alec leans into it, catching Magnus by the nape. He holds Magnus close and the warlock’s breath catches. Seconds tick by.

“Um… I’ll see you later,” Alec says, pulling away, cheeks tinted pink.

Magnus gets flashbacks to a nervous shadowhunter that he met years ago now—all flushed cheeks and doe-flight eyes. Alec notices a few crumbs fell from his hands, and brushes them from Magnus’ shoulder self-consciously as the warlock studies him.

“Sorry,” he says.

Magnus’ eyes are searching, but he sees no apparent explanation for Alec’s regression.

“You’re alright, Alexander,” Magnus says. “You’re alright.”

 

Isabelle leans one arm over her head, stripped down to her leggings and sports bra in the wake of a long run. Her sweat-damp feet give her good purchase on the cherry hardwood, letting her stretch out her tightening hips.

Magnus did the floors this way at Izzy’s request. He did everyone’s quarters—he made rooms with wolves in mind, dorm style with large communal areas. He made rooftop gardens for the fey-folk, expanding until almost a whole forest sat atop the roof of the Vault. He constructed apartments with enchanted shutters to keep vampires comfortable during the long daylight hours—in fact, all the windows in the Vault were spelled to go black in the presence of any vampire, only one of many downworld considerations.

It took Magnus five days, an entire council of warlocks, all of his strength, and then most of Alec’s, to give birth to the Vault—his self-proclaimed magnum opus. He and Alec slept for three days when he finally finished— _finished_ , a nebulous distinction in itself. Every day the Alliance is expanding, growing, and the Vault adapts to their changing needs.

Izzy’s own apartment consists of a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small den. It connects to a larger set of living quarters with a huge kitchen, a living room, and even a modest training area. Jace and Clary have connecting quarters, as does Max, who’s thriving in the bright, chaotic environment of the Vault. She knows more questions will come as he ages, knows he already understands more than he lets on—but for now Izzy is just happy to watch Meliorn teach her little brother seelie slights of hand under urban stars.

Simon elected to stay with Raphael and the small host of Vault vampires, posted here as a show of support from Raphael and the Hotel Du Mort coven. Alec and Magnus took up a semi-permanent residence in an apartment just above the Lightwood extended clan’s. They’re present so often it can barely be called living apart, even with the odd couple’s autonomy intact. In all honesty, Isabelle sees more of her brother now than she had in the last few years at the Institute, Alec driven away by their mother’s judgements and her stubborn, archaic choices.

Isabelle takes a long breath, drawing it in and stuffing it with her rage, trying to expel it on the exhale.

A knock on the door draws her attention from the darker paths her thoughts had taken.

She grabs her tanktop from the back of the chair and pulls the loose material over her head. She tugs the tie from her hair as she walks towards the entryway, shaking her hair out as she goes.

Izzy doesn’t hesitate before opening the door, proof of just how safe she’s begun to feel in this place.

“Brother,” Izzy says with a smile, carding her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face.

It’s Alec’s birthday today. Her gift to him is pretending she’s not totally aware of that fact. She learned her lesson, and has no interest in highlighting the inherent tragedy of the path Alec has chosen for himself. If she had the power, Isabelle would die to take her brother’s pain away.

She’s never had that power though.

“It’s my birthday,” Alec says, before Isabelle can so much ask him how he is.

Isabelle is justifiably surprised by the fact that those are the first words out of Alec’s mouth. She would have thought, as in years previous, he would be steadfastly ignoring the anniversary of his birth.

“I know,” Izzy replies.

“I’m twenty-five years old,” he continues.

She’d think he was having a breakdown except there’s no signs of a panic attack or the crushing onset of mortal doom. He just looks twitchy and nervous, fiddling with the loose sleeves of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Isabelle says, brow furrowed.

“I want to do something tonight.”

“What? Like a birthday party?” Isabelle asks, growing more confused by the minute.

Alec takes a quick, deep breath.

“No, sorry… I meant—something for Magnus,” he says, passing Izzy on his way into her apartment.

She smirks and follows him. Now, _this_ is something she’s more equipped to deal with.

“With it being _your_ birthday, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”

Even with the few bars of _Birthday Sex_ that Isabelle hums flying over his head, Alec catches her meaning. He snorts and drops onto Isabelle’s sofa.

“Fuck, Izzy... that’s not what I meant.” His amusement lasts only a second before he sobers. “There’s just… something I want to ask him—been meaning to for a while, but I didn’t think I could—didn’t know it was _possible_ , and then we left the Clave and—I just need to do it right. I need your help.”

Isabelle’s brows have risen towards her hairline.

“Alec, oh my god, are you _proposing_ to Magnus?!”

Alec looks up, one hand rubbing absently at his chest. He meets her eyes, and she sees something strange—fear and sorrow and… something like hope?

“No,” he says. “I’m not proposing to Magnus tonight.”

A furrow appears between Isabelle’s perfectly plucked brows.

“You’re not? Then what are you…?”

Isabelle thinks back, over Alec’s words, his behavior, since he arrived--over the past few months, even before that—and it hits her. It drives home like demon fangs piercing flesh. How hadn’t she seen it? She knows Alec better than anyone in the world. She’d overhead the desperate words, uttered accidentally in the dust as Alec shook in Magnus’ arms and changed their way of life forever.

She’s not sure when it happened, but now she’s sitting across from her brother, knees weak and one shaking hand over her lips.

“Izzy—shit. Izzy, are you okay?” Alec drops to kneel before her, taking her face in one of his hands, the other steadying on her shoulder.

His eyes are searching. He doesn’t realize that she knows. That’s okay.

“Sorry—I just…” Isabelle says, shock passing quickly.

Alec needs her. She cups his cheek in her hand, quieting his fretting.

“Sorry. Of course I’ll help, Alec. Of _course_.”

 

Magnus isn’t sure what to think as he stands in the rising elevator, rolling his shoulders back and adjusting the flowy tunic that’s draped over his upper body. The delicate fabric of his sleeves are affixed to a pair of gold rings slipped around his middle fingers. It makes the patterns shift as he fixes his hair and has last minute reservations about his outfit. Maybe he should have gone with something more western, or something more formal. He just has no idea what kind of party Alec plans on throwing.

The elevator dings and doors slide open. Magnus shouldn’t be surprised to find the rooftop gardens of the Vault completely empty. Magnus steps out of the brass doors and under boughs laden with fey insects, glowing like faded gem stones, their light illuminating his path.

It’s not hard to find Alec with the faerie sprites guiding his way. Magnus wanders through the bushes of jewel toned berries and whispering flowers until Brooklyn is visible through the trees. Alec stands and the edge of the roof. Lit by the moon, surrounded by immortal fireflies, he looks unearthly, almost celestial. Magnus’ breath catches in his throat.

The warlock approaches, and Alec jumps when a twig cracks under Magnus’ foot. He turns and Magnus stalls, bowled over that much further.

Alec’s clothes are black, not unusual, but his hair has clearly been artfully tousled. A silver cuff, gifted to Alec by Magnus himself, clings to the curve of Alec’s ear—and his face is made up. It isn’t  much, subtly kohled eyes, delicate highlights on his cheeks… Isabelle’s work. Magnus can tell.

“Oh… _Alexander_ ,” Magnus breathes.

There’s something in the air, a seriousness mixed with the nervousness that Magnus has sensed on Alec for days.

Alec’s fiddling with his rings again.

“Magnus,” Alec greets, a smile quickly rising and falling on his face.

Magnus comes to a stop in front of the Shadowhunter.

“I take it the guest list for you party was aggressively exclusive,” Magnus observes.

Alec swallows.

“I was going to do more. Izzy suggested I do something meaningful, like from our history. So I was going to order Thai food from ____’s, like we did on our first date, or maybe take us back to London. I even thought about rune-ing my bow into a bracelet for you…”

“I don’t think you understand the fundamentals of Birthdays… and technically your bow has been mine for years,” Magnus says, softly but in good humor.

“That’s true…” Alec says with a little smile. “None of it seemed right though.”

“Right for what?” Magnus asks. “What’s all this about, Alexander?”

Alec’s eyes are deep and unreadable, reflecting the floating lights all around them.

“I want to tell you what I owe Clorophia.”

 

Instantly, Magnus is on high alert. Alec reaches for one of his hands. He’s been thinking about this—when he sees Clorophia across the council table, when he can’t sleep and Alec’s breaths aren’t there to count himself back to slumber.

He didn’t think he’d find out tonight, in this context.

“Go on,” Magnus urges, tense.

Alec takes a deep breath.

“Do you remember when you found me, after the Battle of Idris?” Alec begins.

Magnus swallows hard and nods. He’ll never forget. Alec, covered in blood and mud, head pillowed on the root of an old oak tree. There’d been dragging footprints sunken deep into the slurried ground and a massive carcass in the distance. Magnus still isn’t sure how Alec made it all the way to the oak. He couldn’t move by the time Magnus found him. The demons disappeared as soon as Clary and Jace drove a sword through Valentine’s chest, and Magnus doesn’t even remember opening the portal to Idris, doesn’t remember stepping through.

“You knew exactly where to find me,” Alec says, looking at their loosely linked fingers. He traces the pattern of Magnus’ shirt where it’s stretched over the back of his hands with his free fingers. “I felt you coming.”

“You were smiling… when I came out of the woods. You could smell the sea… and the trees were all twisted with salt and the grasses were flattened with wind… and violence. It was so cold, but you were smiling.”

“Yeah,” Alec says. “So were you. I thought, when I made it to the treeline, that maybe you’d cry over me. I looked so bad… I know I did. But you just strolled up to me with… with this look on your face—like the one you get when I fall asleep on the sofa—and you said, _Alexander. It’s time to go home_.”

“I felt you, too. I knew you were okay. I knew _we_ were okay,” Magnus says, hand coming up to rest over his name on Alec’s chest. “What’s this all about, my love?”

“I’d never been happier, you know? I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again… but I made a promise, and I kept it. When I heard your voice, I realized that I’d never love or… _want_ anything like I do you. And I don’t want to want anything else… You’re all I want Magnus. Forever,” Alec says and Magnus feels a lump swell in his throat.

“Then that’s what you’ll have,” Magnus says, and he means to kiss the boy but Alec stops him.

“But I won’t… and it’s not fair. What _I_ have isn’t forever. It’s not enough. What about you?” Alec says, eyes intense, one hand gripping Magnus’ painfully tight. “Magnus. I don’t _want_ you to watch me grow old and die.”

Magnus feels suddenly like he’s been dragged from a tropical beach into an arctic sea. He feels cold.

“It’s not what I want for you… and it’s not what I want for me.”

Magnus goes very still. It’s only a front though. On the inside he’s a flurry of action, everything in him trying to throw up walls of protection. He knows he’s going to fail.

“Then what _do_ you want, Alexander?” Magnus says, forcing back the reactive bitterness, the imminent hysteria building inside.

Alec’s eyes are unexpectedly warm—especially considering it sounds like they’re breaking up. Magnus knew their parting was inevitable, but now of all times--

“I want to be with you, as long as possible.”

Magnus is baffled. They’ve had this conversation before. They’ve had this _fight_ before. Just because Magnus’ heart will be broken one day, it doesn’t mean they need to preemptively break Alec’s out of the Shadowhunter’s own misguided perception of fairness.

“Then it’s still _my_ choice. I want to be with you. I thought I made it clear. I thought you got the urge to martyr yourself out of your system in Idris. I—”

Alec is trying to step closer to him.

“Fuck. Magnus, I didn’t mean—I’m completely messing this up. The whole point I was trying to make is that… I just—I really don’t know if you’re going to what I’m asking and it’s so important so it’s really difficult for me to…”

Magnus has literally never been so lost in his life.

“Alec. Please just tell me before I lose my mind.”

The shadowhunter forces himself to lock eyes with Magnus. He takes one more deep breath.

“Magnus…  in return for her help, Clorophia asked for my mortality.”

It’s like everything freezes. The fireflies quit moving at Magnus’ heart just… stops.

“I… you… what? How...?”

Magnus doesn’t recall deciding to speak, or even what he means by his questions.

“She knows a greater collector demon—Druadin. She told me if I offer up my angel blood, he’ll give me demon blood in return. I’d… I’d be—”

“A warlock,” Magnus interrupts, and more words tumble out. His eyes are wide, stunned. “Alec. You can’t give up your angel blood. You’d—”

He wouldn’t be a shadowhunter anymore. His whole life and identity would vanish, replaced with an unending, infinite unknown. Alec grabs Magnus’ hand again.

“See, this is why I was trying to tell you another way. This isn’t the part of the choice that’s yours. That part is mind to decide. It’s my life,” Alec says.

Magnus’ brow furrows, still dazed.

“Parts? Then what am I…?”

Alec looks at him, shoulders stilling like he’s steeling himself.

“The part of it that’s _your_ life. We’ve talked about forever, Magnus, but it’s always been _my_ forever. I’ve always understood that it’s not the same thing as yours. I know you love me—I promise I don’t doubt that—but I could never just assume… I’d understand if you planned, in the future… shit. I never assumed I’d be the last person for you. After I was gone, you have other lives to lead. I would understand. That’s why I made sure Clorophia’s deal was conditional. So--”

Magnus blinks at him, trying to process Alec’s butchered, half revealed thoughts.

It suddenly clicks, what Alec’s really been asking this whole time, what he’s clearly unable to ask outright.

_Do you want me forever?_

_If I could give that to you, would you take it?_

“You stupid—”

Magnus grabs Alec’s face and crashes down onto him like a wave onto the shore.

The warlock wants this to be beautiful. He knows this is the moment is a miracle and this should be a kiss for the ages. He should be able to stop, and tell Alec what this means to him.

But he can’t and the kiss falls apart; he can’t reconcile the years of crushing loneliness, the ones he bears memory of and the ones that were waiting. He can’t process the tears he’s shed or the number of times he’s held his head high as he watched his lovers walk away.

The acceptance that nobody ever would or could _choose Magnus_ doesn’t dispel cleanly. In the face of proof of the contrary, it comes away roughly, like pulling a poisoned arrow from his flesh.

Tears begin to fall down Magnus’ face. His hands slide down and twist into Alec’s shirt. He can’t get enough air in his lungs. His forehead drops onto Alec’s shoulder and teardrops fall  like rain to the ground—neither man notices the way each one pulses with light before sinking into the dirt.

“Magnus? Are you okay?”

Magnus can’t answer, though. He tightens his grip and fights for breath.

“Magnus…?”

Alec’s voice is urgent with concern and Magnus knows he has to say something, anything. He pulls his head back, hoping the sight of Alec’s face will tug him free of this riptide of emotions that’s dragging him under.

And there Alec is, brows drawn with worry—it’s everything he’s ever wanted, and everything he never thought he’d get to keep. The craziest thing is that Magnus sees himself in Alec’s face, too—present in the dusting of blush on his cheeks, the shadow of a shimmer on his eyelids, only visible now that Magnus stands close. Alec is beautiful with makeup or completely barefaced—but the fact is that he chose to be beautiful _like this._

“Are you okay?” Alec asks again.

His eyes are dark and so full of love, and he wants Magnus to have that… forever.

_Is he okay?_

He feels his head tip up and down, hot streams still running down his face. Alec’s brow dips and then he pulls Magnus to his chest. His arms are so warm and tight and full of promise that Magnus almost loses it all over again.

“So… you want this?” Alec asks, his own voice tentative and _hopeful_.

Magnus shakes but it doesn’t matter because Alec has him. Magnus holds him in return and vows to make every promise that he’s never had the opportunity to make before.

“My Alexander…” Magnus breathes, feeling Alec’s temple pressing to his own. “I never have and never will again want something like I want this. _Alec…_ ”

Magnus screws his eyes shut tightly, and his heart feels like its about to burst, like there’s literally not enough room in his body for what he’s feeling.

“You want to stay with me… _you’re going to stay with me_ …”

It makes Alec draw him even tighter to his body, like he never wants to let go.

“Yeah. _Yes, Magnus._ ”

And he may not have to.

Alec and Magnus hold each other until Magnus’ face is dry. When Magnus finally opens his eyes, he begins to laugh.

“Alexander… Look.”

They both tilt their faces up and are bathed in a soft, ephemeral light. The trees, which had, at the beginning of the evening, been normal, green-leafed vegetation, are now laden with luminous silver. Every leaf is sterling and the boughs are studded with amarinthine flowers.

Alec smiles, happiness consuming every feature. Both warlock and shadowhunter stare up at the radiant canopy, eyes full of wonder and hearts overflowing with love.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone being patient!! So excited about this one!
> 
> Thanks to [Beka](https://cranberrybug.tumblr.com) for her beta!!

“I… I need time,” is what Jace says when Alec tells him.

It’s proof in itself of how far they’ve all come that Jace doesn’t just punch Alec in the face. It’s proof that he’ll be okay.

Alec’s chest rises and falls heavily, his sweat-slicked back sticking to the training mats. There are really no witching hours in the Vault, no hours where _everyone_ is sleeping, yet Alec is alone in the gym. It’s probably less due to chance and more due to the fact that nobody likes training anywhere near him when he’s agitated.

“So, when you’re a warlock, are you even going to have to bother will all this training?”

Jace plops himself down next to Alec. He leans back onto his hands and doesn’t look down at Alec. Instead his eyes trace the violent murals splashed across the training room ceiling. There are knights fighting serpents, angels fighting demons, shadowhunters and downworlders tearing dark creatures apart.

Alec notices that Jace’s knuckles are blue and split. They have similar methods of dealing with stress. However, for Alec it’s the push, the feeling of getting stronger and gaining that much more control. He doesn’t think it’s the same for Jace. For Jace, he thinks it might be the destruction and, more importantly, the pain. The idiot never tapes his damn hands.

Alec snorts, still working to get his breath back. Jace tries to hold the levity in his tone when he continues, but Alec knows his parabatai.

“You were twelve when I met you, you know… that’s only Max’s age. And like… I look at Max, that _kid_ , and he just doesn’t remind me of the Alec I met when I was ten. He doesn’t remind me of a single one of the memories I have of you—I mean who knew it was even possible for a twelve-year-old to scowl so much?” Jace rambles and Alec pushes himself up into a sitting position. “What I’m saying, Alec, is that in the whole time I knew you—we became parabatai, _brothers_ —but in the whole time I’ve known you, I didn’t see you truly happy until you met Magnus Bane. I literally didn’t even know you _could_ smile like you do now.”

“Jace, that’s not—you and Izzy—”

“Shut up, Alec,” Jace cuts, not unkindly. “Got nothing to do with us. You loved us, lived for us sometimes… I _know_ that.”

His face takes on a stormy quality and Alec casts his eyes down. He doesn’t like thinking about those dark years, when he’d accepted the fact that he’d never truly be _good_ , when each minute of every day was difficult. He’d just been so tired.

“But me, Izzy, Max… you loved us, but we could never make you _happy_ ,” Jace says and digs his thumb into his bruised knuckles. He pauses until Alec meets his eyes. “So I get it. And if anyone on this damned earth deserves to spend centuries with the person that makes them happy like he makes you happy, it’s you.”

Alec’s throat is tight, and no words come to him. He’s not sure if what Jace said is really true. The silence stretches out, but between them it’s always been the quiet that speaks the loudest. Alec leans over, lets his forehead rest on Jace’s shoulder until the words come.

“You’ll always be my parabatai,” Alec finally says. “No matter what happens—warlock, vampire, three-eyed toad from a Seelie other-world…. That’ll never change.”

Jace takes a deep breath, Alec hears the click of him swallowing.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

“Yeah.”

 

None of the declarations are easy, from the personal to the political. Magnus wants to help, be there for Alec every step of the way, but Alec knows the journey has to be walked alone. Everyone has to know that it’s _Alec’s_ choice.

The only time Magnus joins Alec is at the Alliance council meeting. They both agreed it would be best if it was abundantly clear to all their allies that this will be a decision made for love and not power.

Though, once the topic was breached, the potential power didn’t seem to come as bad news.

“I know deals have been made for immortality in the past, but who knows how this deal will play out? Will you be full warlock? Mostly warlock? I’m no expert but those runes of yours are resilient, who knows what angel blood might cling to them,” Raphael muses. “Whatever happens, an angel tinted warlock ought to earn some healthy caution from our allies and enemies alike…”

“I agree,” Meliorn voices. “And beyond being a source of power, it will be good to have a twofold representative for the Shadowhunter kin. More and more Nephilim hunt for their freedom here. We all agree that there’s no better director for the Shadowhunter contingent than our Lydia Branwell—but a thread of consistency for the first few mortal generations would certainly be beneficial.”

Lydia, who had smiled and cried at the same time when he told her, grins now without restraint.

“We did once talk about running an Institute together,” she says.

“The Shadowhunters of the Vault couldn’t ask for a better leader than you,” Alec replies. “You deserve it.”

“And so do you,” Lydia says, and he knows she means more than just the Vault.

Alec reaches for Magnus’ hand under the table. The Warlock looks down, eyes crinkling at the corners.

 

Once Alec is sure his choice won’t endanger their infant peace, there’s no real reason to wait.

Clorophia and Magnus spend a week preparing.

Alec doesn’t sleep much.

“It’s done,” Clary says, arms completely covered in chalk as she enters the room where everyone waits.

Alec leads the way down the stairs into the basement in which they chose to house the summoning.  Magnus hovers behind, silent. That morning in bed he kissed Alec and pressed their foreheads together, eyes tight shut. He didn’t need to say more and he hasn’t since. Behind them is Clorophia, eyes excited and victorious, glowing green under her dark brow. After comes Izzy, Jace and Clary, and Simon, Rafael, and Meliorn follow last—just in case things take an unexpected turn.

You can never be too careful with demons. Alec will never forget his first summoning. The shame still burns in his memory.

He won’t be caught off guard this time.

In the basement, Clorophia passes Alec to take her place at the top of the elaborately embellished pentagram that’s been painstakingly drawn onto the floor. She stands between a pair of waist-high podiums, each holding a stone bowl.

“It’s time,” she says.

Alec feels a hand slide into his. He turns. Magnus’ eyes are wet, brimming with things beyond words. Alec pulls the warlock’s hand to his mouth, presses his lips to the side of Magnus’ hand. He lingers and then lets their hands fall. His eyes are drawn to the others and his throat burns. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even want to, but it doesn’t stop his heart from shrinking away from the knowledge that it will be shattered by the inevitable loss of his mortal family. 

Alec’s always known that nothing comes for free—he has no illusions about the price he’ll one day pay for a shot at an unending life with Magnus.

“Those not participating in the ritual, please move to the edges of the room.”

Alec grits his teeth, faces Clorophia and squares his shoulders. He doesn’t expect the clicking of heels, or the sudden presence of body heat against his arm.

He doesn’t expect Isabelle to suddenly be standing by his side—inside the pentagram.

“Izzy, what…”

She’s already rolling her eyes.

“Oh, my sweet, naive big brother…” she says. “As if I’d ever let you do this alone.”

Alec’s head is spinning, roaring and rushing. So much for not being caught off guard. He’s never been so lost in his life.

“Before you can even start: it’s not just for you,” Izzy says, cheek dropping from her tone.

“Why would you—?”

What could Izzy gain from this except the inevitable loss? Centuries of death? Izzy smiles softly.

“I know it’s going to be hard for you to understand, but I want this for my own reasons. I never felt… devoted to the life of a Shadowhunter like you did. You, Jace, even Max, you’ve all always been true Shadowhunters. The way we live and what we fight for… it’s so important—but deep down I always wanted more, Alec,” Izzy explains, reaching up to press her hand to his cheek when his brow only furrows deeper. “I’d _never_ have shirked my duty, and it’s not like I hate our way of life but, _Alec_ , I want to see the whole world. I want to know how Kelpies dance and how mundanes in Mongolia raise their babies. I want to learn _all_ the ways of the Seelies.”

She looks over Alec’s shoulder, catches Meliorn’s sparkling eyes.

“I want them to teach me how not to lie. I want to see how the mages of Brazil talk to their trees. I want to learn the language. I just—none of it was ever going to be an option for me. No mortal life could offer me these things. And I _don’t_ want you to do this alone either. So… let’s do this together, okay?”

Alec knows there are others around them. Jace looks pained but he smiles anyway. Clary and Simon are wearing matching expressions of joy. Raphael looks at the shadowhunters with a fond sort of exasperation. Magnus stands with his back ramrod straight, seemingly doing anything in his power to stop the tears in his eyes from falling.

But Alec doesn’t look anything but his sister’s face, and he has no strength in him great enough to hold back the flood. He pulls Izzy to his chest, buries his face in her hair.

“I knew the cost. I knew what this choice would mean. My people, my students, my family—Clary and others who’ve joined us, my _family—”_ he chokes. “Jace and Max—and you— _you._ ”

One day, most of the people Alec loves are going to die.

But Magnus will be by his side.

And so will Isabelle.

 

“If we don’t start soon, we’ll have to wait for another new moon,” Clorophia says, not unkindly.

Alec takes a deep breath, pulls himself together. He and Izzy face Clorophia once more.

“Are you ready?”

They nod.

Clorophia begins.

The ritual begins with chanting in a language Alec doesn’t even recognize. It’s guttural, makes Alec feel like there’s cold oil dripping down his spine. The ground starts to rumble and the lines of the summoning circle begin to glow with a fiery red light.

“Make your offering,” Clorophia commands in English.

Both Lightwood siblings pull knives from their pockets—seraph bright. Neither flinch as they draw the blades quickly over their palms. Blood splatters to the floor and the hellfire shines brighter, burning into Alec’s eyes until he has to squint in the face of the onslaught. 

“You mustn’t hesitate when he comes! Make your deal!” Clorophia shouts as a shadowy figure with emeralds for eyes rises before them.

Alec grabs Izzy’s hand as the collector demon reaches for the siblings. Alec won’t fail this time. He knows what he wants. He takes one last breath and thinks about Magnus before he lets his eye fall closed.

Then the Lightwoods are consumed.

 

At first it feels like fire in his veins, and for a minute Alec thinks he’s back in Idris, bound and burning before the Clave. Yet, the pain changes quickly, his body flashing hot and then cold. He feels a freezing hand reaching into his chest, pulling something out of him, collecting it into a bundle, into a fist, and then something new is pouring into Alec. First if feels dark, but then it touches his blood, his soul, and it’s like a chemical reaction, red and black sparking and building into bubbling silver and gold. Using runes always felt like pulling power from somewhere outside himself, harnessing something _else_. The magic welling up in him now is different. It’s inside him, part of him.

It compresses around his heart, and then spreads out to the very tips of his fingers. The other changes can’t be explained so easily. There are shifts in his body, a readjustment in his mind. Alec had no context for the feeling until the yolk of time was lifted from his shoulders, only tangible once it’s lost its ageing grip.

The demonic wind dies down; the freezing hand slips out from under his skin, and then Alec opens his eyes.

Silver sparks dance around his hand—and Alec Lightwood is reborn.

 

“Alright, so that’s the kitchen… and the bedroom is in the loft right up there,” Magnus explains, sweeping through the cottage. “I don’t come here often but even I, very rarely, require a break from the bustle of New York.”

They decided it would be best for Alec and Isabelle to leave the Vault for a few weeks, just until they got a feeling of their new powers. Isabelle went with Clorophia and Meliorn to a tiny island in South America where Clorophia was born some odd centuries ago. Magnus took Alec to a cabin in the Canadian wilderness. Magnus built the place after he caught a gorgeous werewolf boy that he’d been seeing in bed with a once close friend. He condemned the drama of New York on the whole and decided he would spend some time alone in the wilderness.

It had lasted a total of three days before Magnus was so bored he wanted to light the mountains on fire.

Yet, it might not be so bad here with company.

Alec stands in the center of the living room, eyes sliding over the exposed beams of the high ceiling and the relatively modest decorations, for Magnus at least.

Alec doesn’t look any different than he had that morning—he didn’t grow horns or turn blue, not that Magnus would have minded. Yet, he can feel something has changed. He can feel Alec’s newborn magic, constantly reaching out, like a brand new limb, unsure and curious.

“Love, are you alright? How do you feel?” Magnus asked.

Alec seems distracted, but Magnus doesn’t blame him.

“I… there’s just this whole new thing inside me. I knew it would be a kind of power but… it’s a living thing, and it’s me at the same time,” Alec says and runs his fingers down his chest, brows slightly furrowed. He looks up at Magnus. “It won’t hurt anyone will it?”

Magnus approaches him, lays a hand on Alec’s chest. Magnus knows he won’t be able to _fully_ understand. His magic has been a part of him since birth—but he does know Alec.

“Like you said, it’s a part of _you_. It won’t hurt anyone you wouldn’t. And for all the rest, that’s why we came out to one of the most isolated places on earth. There’s not a single person besides you and I for a hundred miles. And I’ll teach you. We’ll figure it out… together.”

Finally, Alec smiles, halting but real. Magnus feels his face go soft.

“I don’t think I’ve wrapped my head around any of this,” Magnus murmurs, not even sure he has the right to say such a thing with what Alec is going through.

Luckily Alec doesn’t seem to take any offense, his smile shifts from hesitant to eye-crinkling.

It drops right off his face, though, when he notices that tiny blue flowers have sprung up all around their feet.

“What…?!”

For someone so used to magic, Alec is oddly startled by his own. Magnus tries to calm him with steady, warm hands.

“It’s normal, petal. Your magic is a part of you, and until you’re used to controlling it, it will express itself based on what you’re feeling. Like a clenched fist in anger… or a blush,” Magnus says, tracing his fingers over Alec’s cheek bone. “What were you thinking about, my love?”

A flush rises on Alec’s cheeks, and more flowers pop through the cracks in the floorboards.

“Just… that I actually found a way—that I did it… I get to stay with you.”

Magnus feels a delicate vine curl around the ball of his ankle. His head spins, like a cross between too much fine wine and tripping into a potentially unending and impossible future, strung out across the ages.

“Let me take you to bed, Alexander,” Magnus says.

Except then they’re there, before Magnus can move an inch. Alec’s eyes are wide and Magnus can’t help but laugh gleefully. He grabs Alec and rolls them down onto the bed until Alec is flat on his back and Magnus is straddling his hips. Magnus squeezes Alec between his thighs and runs the fingers of both hands, one after another, through Alec’s hair without hesitation.

The once shadowhunter weathers the touch and beats Magnus to the punch.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, eyes wide.

“And you, my darling. What an image we must make,” Magnus muses.

Magnus then takes the opportunity to light the room, twisting one hand to cast a fire into the wood fireplace in the corner. It’s not enough so Magnus snaps, flicks his fingers this way and that to send a few orbs of light into the corners of the room. It washed them in a soft light, casting reflections into Alec’s liquid brown eyes.

“Will I be able to do that?” Alec asks, palms skating down Magnus’ arms.

Magnus tilts his head, considering.

“Oh surely.”

Magnus’ hands fall to Alec’s chest, thumbs rubbing over his nipples until the little peaks can be seen through Alec’s soft shirt, oddly illicit. Alec’s breathing quickens and the floor rumbles, just a little bit.

“Will I be able to do everything you can? The wards… the portals… the spells and fire…” Alec continues, gaze filled with a sort of molten wonder as he traces the veins on the back of Magnus’ hands.

“Perhaps…” Magnus replies honestly, running his fingertips down Alec’s chest. He traces a spiral around his belly button and flicks his wrist to the side. Alec’s shirt flies across the room, hits the wall, and crumples to the ground. “You’re powerful, Alec. You’ve always been powerful, and now…? I can feel it in you, like nothing I’ve ever felt before… _But._ ”

Magnus leans forward and trails his fingers back up, over Alec’s sternum, into the hollow of his throat, over his Adams apple, sending out sparks of intense pleasure to dance across Alec’s skin.

“It’s not always the greatness of the power that matters,” Magnus rasps seductively as he draws the shell of Alec’s ear with the pad of his thumb, “It’s how you use it.”

With that Magnus sends a wave of slow heat over Alec. The younger groans, spine bending. His hand flies up, catching one of Magnus’ wrists—and Magnus gasps as what feels like a thousand tiny winds lick over every inch of his skin.

When he opens his eyes, Alec is staring up at him, catching his breath. He pulls Magnus’ hand to his mouth and presses a loose-lipped kiss to his palm, and to the meat of his thumb. Magnus can’t tear his gaze away as Alec folds his fingers down, drops kisses down on his knuckles like a knight before his king. A hunger like Magnus never felt before, not in hundreds of years of desire—gluttony and starvation—falls over him. His lips part in shock as Alec’s lips close around the sapphire set into the ring on Magnus’ middle finger. It’s obscene.

“Let me touch you, Alexander,” Magnus says.

“Kiss me,” Alec replies, sweet and desperate and real.

Magnus doesn’t hesitate to comply. He swoops forward, claims Alec’s lips with his own. They’re wet, the evidence left on Magnus’ knuckles and rings. Their mouths slide together, slick and familiar. Magnus knows he’ll never get tired of Alec’s taste or the feeling of Alec’s tongue slipping past his teeth—always so earnest, so genuine, like he’s still shocked after all these years that he’s _allowed_.

Magnus nips, teases at the swollen flesh of Alec’s mouth until the newborn warlock loses the pace and surrenders to the onslaught, sucking on Magnus’ tongue and groaning low in his throat. Magnus drops to Alec’s neck, revels in the way it makes Alec press into his touch, like it’s the only thing that matters in the whole world.

Sparks fly about the room, falling from the ceiling, peeling off the walls, and for once they don’t belong to Magnus. They’re all Alec—his desperation, his need, embodied in sparkling physical form.

His movements grow looser, more open, as Magnus’ hands grow bolder, digging into the grooves of his ribs, feeling out the solid lines of muscle and bone.

“Turn over,” Magnus whispers.

He’s not sure if Alec rolls himself over or if there’s more magic at play, but the lines of Alec’s back are now bare to him—and he stops caring about much else. Magnus snaps his fingers, and the rest of their clothes are banished—except for Magnus’ arrowhead, of course. That drags over Alec’s spine as the warlock kisses along his hairline.

“What do you want, my darling?” Magnus asks, voice as thick as molten rock. “What do you need?”

“Anything—everything,” Alec pants, palms digging trenches into the mattress before his fingers sink in. “Please, touch me. Take me.”

Magnus laves his tongue down Alec’s spine, pausing over the stark lines of the Irak-Ta between Alec’s shoulder blades. It’s still as black as the day it was drawn. He always pays special attention to the area. He didn’t dare pray for the disappearance of Alec’s ruins, is happy the shadows of them remain—he knows what they mean to Alec. Yet, he’d hoped this one might fade. It was a false hope. The suffering mark still stood—the clear evidence of Alec’s choices, the decisions he’s made.

Magnus still hated it, tried to erase it with his tongue, obscure it with love bites and bruises. He wouldn’t be against scratching it off…

Alec might not be wholly against it either.

That’s a thought for another night, though.

Magnus travels lower, through the slick small of Alec’s back and lower, to where he smells like clean sweat and _man_. Girls and boys smell distinct and different. Magnus loves both flavors—yet the smell of Alec is the only thing he wants to smell ever again. It’s spicy and masculine, with a subtle undercurrent of vanilla sweetness, always present.

Alec groans as Magnus sinks his teeth into the meat between Alec’s arse and thigh.

 

It’s not the first time they’ve done this, nor the third, nor the tenth, but it never fails to push Alec off the deep end.

And right now Alec’s not even totally sure that’s figurative. There’s something in him that starts to boil at the first touch of Magnus’ tongue. It threatens to bubble over when he feels fingers digging into the globes of his ass, spreading him.

Magnus slides a hand up between Alec’s bare thighs and cups his growing erection in his palm, giving Alec the ability to rut down into something solid. Alec moans as Magnus feels out the hot shape of Alec’s cock—tongue simultaneously breaching him in the most intimate way.

The earth is shaking again. Alec is pretty sure it’s his doing, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Ma- _Magnus…_ ”

“So lovely, Alexander. So hard for me,” Magnus groans, dropping his forehead to Alec’s thigh, fondling Alec more insistently. His fingertips press into the sensitive underside of Alec’s cockhead as Magnus draws incendiary shapes his tongue—it makes precome bead at his tip. Magnus moans into Alec’s skin when he feels it. “Are you going to let me have this, love? I need to feel you.”

There’s a flash, and then thunder booms overhead.

“Please,” Alec begs.

He’d love to take some control right now, give Magnus what he’s asking-but Magnus’ touch is overwhelming, and this new thing inside him is reacting like cesium dropped in water. It’s all he can do to hold on.

Luckily Magnus has never had too much of a problem taking what he wants.

Magnus is hushing him, touching him, petting him, and turning him back over. Alec opens his eyes and is bowled over by the image of Magnus above him. His eyes, gold and slitted and full of fire that Alec understands for the very first time. The walls crackle with Alec’s own electricity. It wants to consume Magnus, but Alec knows it would never harm him in any way. Intermittent winds are catching Magnus’ wild hair. His skin is dark and slicked with sweat and an arrow rests on his breast.

“Magnus…”

Thunder claps, and Alec reaches out where his magic doesn’t dare.

 

Alec pulls Magnus down to him and they kiss, Alec’s fist tight in his hair, sparks and lights dance around them and Magnus can’t wait any longer. He wants to feel Alec inside, to claim this elemental power. He wants to take him.

He slicks himself up with magic and ignores his own leaking cock. He sits up and takes Alec in hand. The fledgling warlock’s lips are parted and his eyes are wide—until Magnus positions himself and begins to sink down. Then his eyes slam shut, his hair gets mussed as he bares his throat—and the thunder silences. Quiet befalls them. 

Magnus just breathes.

“I love you,” Alec says when he opens his eyes.

Magnus can’t respond, too full, too overwhelmed, too lost in the fact that little green shoots are starting to poke up through the floorboards.

He begins to move, revels in the way he can see Alec losing his mind, thumbs digging into Magnus’ hips. He wants this to last forever, and the thought wets his eyes, and draws a joyous laugh from Magnus’ chest as he starts to roll his hips rhythmically.

They lose themselves in it, this thing that’s so familiar and yet always, _always_ new as the first time. Magnus can barely breathe as Alec’s cock begins to drag over his prostate. He bears down and the shoots are budding, poking out of the walls, now from the ceiling.

“Magnus. _Magnus_ —I can’t— _I—_ ” Alec stutters, brow furrowed.

Magnus leans up, one hand on his shoulder, pinching a nipple with the other. He shudders at the sob it rips from Alec’s lips. He won’t last, Magnus can tell. The magic in him is now reaching out, like stardust of silver and gold, curling around Magnus’ body. A tendril brushes his lips, tasting of burnt sugar.

Magnus wants to talk but for once he’s the one completely beyond words.

“ _Alec, yes…”_

The young warlock is now making these little noises, cut off little whimper-groans that Magnus would think sounded pained if he didn’t know better. Magnus speeds his movements, dropping down as Alec thrusts upward. The sounds of their harsh breathing is louder than the mystic winds that Alec keeps whipping up. It’s all gone quiet now, like their magics don’t dare interrupt.

And then Alec freezes, eyes opening wide and locking with Magnus’. He tenses and Magnus can feel it building, in the way Alec’s cock throbs deep inside Magnus’ body, in the fingers digging into his thighs.

The flowers bloom all at once, azure petals like thousands of tiny gemstones.

Alec comes, shouting Magnus’ name and spilling with Magnus seated flush against his hips. He holds Magnus there, and Alec’s magic must take it as a direction, because that’s when it takes him, drives into him, pours every ounce of pleasure back into Magnus.

He didn’t expect it, but his own orgasm is ripped from him. The sticky lines of his release hit Alec’s chest, his belly, his _neck_. He feels like he needs to scream, but it gets tangled in his throat, and he comes silently.

They go over together, surrounded by fire and light and love. A few tears slide down Magnus’ cheeks.

And when he collapses, barely conscious and boneless, on Alec’s chest, he hides his face in Alec’s neck. But his shadowhunter, his fledgling warlock, knows. Of course he does.

When his hand finds its way into the small of Magnus’ back, it’s reassuring. It’s warm. It’s gentle, and solid.

And permanent.

 

Alec’s not in bed when Magnus wakes. It’s early, the light coming through the windows still washed out, filtered by mountains and trees. Shadowhunters are half nocturnal by nature and so often slept through the morning, but Alec almost never rose after the crack of dawn.

Magnus finds Alec outside the cabin, following the familiar twang- _thunk_ sound of Alec’s bow. He stands tall, surrounded by millions of little flowers that definitely hadn’t been there when they arrived. The whole meadow is covered in them, maybe the forest too—but Magnus can’t tell for the shadows under the trees.

Alec doesn’t flinch when Magnus speaks, even though the dew-soaked morning absorbed the sound of every footfall. A hunter is a hunter, and a hunter isn’t snuck up on.

“I don’t know how you do it… how can you even function with as little sleep as you get?” Magnus asks, touching the small of Alec’s back with bare fingers, dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “Why do you always get up so early?”

It’s funny, years they’ve been together and he only thought to ask now, on this crisp alpine morning.

“I always liked the quiet I guess. Used to be the only time I could really be alone,” Alec replied, corner of his mouth twitching up. “Used to be the only time I could really be alone at the Institute.”

“Oh… would you like me to leave then?” Magnus says teasingly.

Alec’s smile grows.

“No.”

“Good,” Magnus says and turns to see what Alec’s been doing. There are circles carved into the bark of three separate trees, each one bristling with arrows. Alec follows his gaze. His smile fades just a little.

“I had to carve the targets. My stele won’t respond to me,” he explains.

The morning sours in an instant.

“Alec, I—”

“Hey, no that’s not what—” Alec assured and then steadied himself, offers Magnus a reassuring smile. “I’m sure there’s a hundred ways to make targets with warlock magic. I just don’t know how yet, is all…”

Magnus takes a deep breath. Alec makes his own choices. He wants this. Magnus nods slowly and turns towards the tree line. He twists his hand and pushes and pulls gently. The bark shifts, turning red and white, a classic bullseye.

Alec’s grin returns.

“See?” he says, and then something flashes in his eyes. “And I don’t think I’m going to be completely useless. Earlier—a few times I got it to—”

Alec’s readjusting his grip on his bow, raising it. A furrow of intense concentration appears between his brows. He inhales… exhales… and again, slower. He doesn’t have an arrow knocked, and yet he’s pulling the string back anyway. His form is still perfect, eyes laser focused on his target.

And something is shimmering into existence where an arrow should be.

Alec releases.

Something glittering and gold sings through the air.

Nothing is left of Magnus’ target.

 

Alec’s fingers are still tingling as the last of the fog burns off, and the air’s only misted by the steam rising from the mugs of sweet coffee resting on their knees. Magnus is warm where it’s pressed against Alec’s.

The sun is finally peeking its head above the mountains behind the cabin, rising late this far North. Magnus and Alec sit in the shadow of the porch, watching the tide of watery light wash over the mountain wilderness. Magnus’ hair is soft, free of color and gel, mussed only by the sweat of sleep.

Alec’s heart is beating slowly, and his biceps ache just a little. It’s reassuring, that he can still feel the effects of training.

“So, what should we do first?” Magnus asks. “I could show you how to conjure—though I suppose we should start off with the basics…”

Suddenly, a strange thought takes Alec. He knows he’ll have to get back to the Vault soon. He knows more people are arriving every week—knows some of them are because of Alec’s actions specifically. He owes it to them to be there, to help. Jace, Max, Clary, and the others are waiting.

And yet…

“Today… maybe we could just sit here…? We haven’t finished the book we started… what? Weeks ago now,” Alec says.

Magnus tilts his head, questioning.

“Alec?”

Alec laughs, just a soft little huff. He feels a bit giddy and ironically young. The Vault, the Alliance, could wait a few days. He slides his hand over Magnus’, curls it in his own. A couple more blue flowers poke through the dirt around their feet. Alec doesn’t know how to make them stop yet.

That’s okay, though.

“It’s just… we have time.”

Magnus’ eyes widen and he’s looking at Alec like maybe’s never seen him before. Then his face is softening. He lays his temple on Alec’s shoulder. They watch the snowcapped mountains shift from shaded blue to pristine white. Their breathing syncs up.

“Yeah,” Magnus agrees. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys sooo much! I'd love to to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Also come talk to me about immortal alec and talk to me on tumblr HERE!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to know what you all think. Also I live on validation so the more excited you are the more excited I am about this hah!
> 
> I'm [spanglepup](https://spanglepup.tumblr.com) on tumblr!
> 
> Part two coming soon!!!


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